Warrior Woman

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

One more day in Valparaiso only today we visited my aunt, the only sister my mother has left in Mexico. It’s been decades since 5 out of grandmas’ 6 kids left her to start lives in the U.S. A few years ago grandma became a U.S. citizen and since she has traveled back and forth from Valparaiso to California to Chicago. Stories tell that both my great grandfather and grandfather were “braceros” in the U.S. and had permits to travel back and forth to the U.S. to work on the farms and they did, until my grandfather was killed. It was a brutal murder and it left my grandmother pregnant, and a single mother of 6 children. My father came from a good family who had some money and my mother by contrast lived in extreme poverty. Mom never made it past the 6^th grade and neither did most of her siblings. They had to work if they wanted to eat and my grandmother spent her entire life sewing beautiful clothes for people who could afford it. Both of my mothers’ brothers took off in search of a life at very young ages. One was living and working in Chicago by the time he was 14, sending money when he could and trying to help the rest of his siblings survive. At one point I remember my grandmother leaving to the U.S. and working there for a season to bring home money to live on for the next season. I have so many wonderful memories of how my grandmother would tell us that in the U.S. people were so rich the streets were paved with gold. She would bring us back paper clips, pens and pencils and tell us how people were so rich there those were the things they threw away. She used to clean office buildings and my grandmother would sift through the garbage to find gifts to bring back to us.

One of the most cherished pictures I have from my youth are of my cousins and I one Christmas in front of our Christmas tree with our gifts in front of us, a basket filled with peanuts, oranges and a few candies. All the kids gathered around the basket looking at the camera anxious to be given their annual treat. Who would have thought many decades later I would be in that same spot, having these memories in the dark, missing my own family and wondering if my kids will ever get to hear these stories?

By foot we make our way to the town square and visit their first stop light. My cousin is all too eager to tell us how Valparaiso is moving forward because they now have an electric traffic signal. Which reminds me of the times I lived in Palm Desert and a friend invited me to the inauguration of the first traffic light in Mecca. Poverty only changes locations, here and in the U.S. poor people are the same. Valpa is a small town and we see everything within a few paces. It’s the walking that is taking a toll on us fat Americans. We walk to my aunt’s house which now seems to be further than I remember as a child. Being in her home takes me back to other childhood memories I had tucked away and forgotten. Her house is large and smells of cows. My aunt has always had a little farm with some cows, goats, chickens and a field full of alfalfa. Sometimes when the animals got sick they ended up at her house waiting to be nursed back to health. Today my aunt has guest and she is cooking up a feast, enchiladas, chicken wings, beans, rice, fresh torillas, salsa, alfafa water and for desert home made “arroz con leche” (sweet rice). We gorge on all the delicious food and watch as my aunt sifts the cultures in a large bin, today she is making cheese. You herd right; she is making her own cheese. Her fridge is filled with fresh cows’ milk straight from her own cows so why not make fresh cheese? The kitchen smells amazing and I want to take a nap right on the table. My thoughts were to come to Mexico and walk so much that I lost weight, but with meals like this if they let me back in the U.S. they’re going to have to wheel me back in a semi.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with nostalgic memories of the past between my father and my uncle. I listen to the past unfold before me. Afterwards, my uncle volunteers his youngest son to drive us back to grandmas’ house. My cousin takes the time to show us the entire downtown area by car and “Atotonilco”. Atotonilco is a small town (population less than 200) where there are natural hot springs and mineral pools. The entire town is centered around these hot springs and a new resort has opened up in town. He gets permission to drive us through the premises and the place is much nicer than what I remembered as a kid. Children and families play and BBQ in the park with out a care in the world. Just a few weeks before, 17 people were killed in a shoot out there between the cartel and local gangs. The violence got to be so bad that the Mexican military had to come in to protect the people. As we drive past Atotonilco and make our way back to Valpa we see the new military post set up and about 7 soldiers standing with machine guns behind a wall of sand bags. The building reads “home for the elderly” but it has clearly now become a home for war.

Back at grandmas house it is once again to battle the neighbors. No sleep again tonight, they have decided to smoke us out of room. The heat is unbearable and I feel us starting to bake, we have to open the window but the room quickly begins to fill with smoke. First, the neighbors conveniently stand next to the open window and begin to smoke cigarettes. I cough to make them aware there is someone inside and that I don’t like the smoke. Again, my mistake they took my cough as invitation to now burn trash right outside the window and the room again quickly fills with smoke from the burning trash. They say there’s no rest for the wicked but what if I hit them over the head with a shovel? They’re bound to be still then.